


Against your will

by Sparkleymask



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Feelings Realization, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-10
Updated: 2018-11-11
Packaged: 2019-08-21 18:11:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16581518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sparkleymask/pseuds/Sparkleymask
Summary: He was always saying things like that.I can handle it, I'm built to take hits, that's what I'm here for.In the beginning it had irritated Dorian because he had taken it for arrogance, a foolhardiness that would get them all killed. Lately it irritated him for quite different reasons.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Just good old fashioned tropey nonsense. Started as a fill for a prompt,
> 
> "Bull is poisoned but brushes it off, expecting to recover. Except as they trek further into the Hissing Wastes he grows worse. No one has a cure for the poison and they are miles from a camp. Dorian stays with Bull while the Inquisitor rushes back to camp to try bring back an antivenom."
> 
> And that's pretty much it.

The wyvern appeared with a suddenness that allowed them little time to prepare, cresting the dune with a screeching roar and rushing towards them. 

Dorian had always been impressed at how agile a fighter Bull was, how his speed and precision belied his size. The terrain of the Hissing Wastes, however, worked against him. His boots sank into the loose sand, making his dodges slower and lessening the accuracy of his strikes.

The wyvern dragged one huge claw along his leg, forcing him off balance, and in that brief opening snapped its jaws onto his arm. 

When Bull did not immediately manage to release himself, Dorian started to run. He noticed, to his left, Kaaras doing the same thing, tugging a dagger from his belt and launching himself at the creature from behind. 

With his free hand Bull had taken hold of his axe up near the blade and was mashing the blunt end of it repeatedly into the wyvern's snout in an attempt to make it unlock its jaws, but it wasn't until Kaaras's dagger sank into its haunches that it released him.

Bull fell back as the wyvern turned its attention towards Kaaras, catching him with a whip of its thick tail and knocking him off his feet. 

By that time Dorian had reached them. He brought his staff down in an arc, the sharpened blade at its head slashing the animal's flank, and followed it with a bolt of lightning. The wyvern convulsed, screeching horribly, and its front legs collapsed from under it. 

Scrabbling to his feet, Bull brought his axe down between the wyvern's eyes.

Kaaras coughed, likely winded, before sitting upright and aiming a peevish kick at the wyvern’s tail. “Everyone alright?” 

From behind him, Dorian heard Varric trudging laboriously through the sand towards them.

"Tiny?"

Bull was attempting to tug his axe out of the wyvern's head. It took three attempts before it finally came free, and when it did the backwards momentum made him stumble. 

Dorian moved closer. He took in Bull's expression first, his deep frown, before noticing his arm. 

Bull had been wearing vambraces, thankfully; had it not been night he likely wouldn’t have been wearing armour at all, having found the metal components heated to unbearable temperatures in the desert sun. Without that protection, Dorian suspected the wyvern would have taken the arm off entirely. 

The vambrace was mangled where the wyvern's fangs had clamped onto it, deeply dented. He touched the ruined armour carefully. "Did it break the skin?"

Bull's other hand came to rest gently on Dorian's shoulder. "Not too badly." 

Dorian could hear the edge in his voice, something Bull was trying to hide. "Take that off." He pulled lightly at the vambrace.

Kaaras came up behind him. "What's wrong?"

"He's been bitten."

"Ah, shit." He began to fiddle with the small bag at his belt. Soon he was pulling out vials, holding each up to catch the dim moonlight so he could squint at the contents. On the fifth attempt he located the antivenom, but the triumph dropped from his expression almost immediately. 

"What?" Dorian leaned in to get a better look at the vial. The contents, a translucent liquid with a greenish tint, filled barely a third of it. A long crack ran up the side of the glass. 

"It must have happened when I got hit." He chewed briefly at his lip. "They can normally stand up to that."

The beginnings of panic fluttered in Dorian's throat. He swallowed them down. "Alright. Well." He spoke to Bull without looking him in the eye. "Drink it quickly, before any more can leak out."

Bull took the vial with his uninjured left hand. He held his right arm against his stomach, and it would have almost looked casual had it not been held so still. 

Kaaras cleared his throat. "Let's get into the light.”

They made their way up the slope, out of the shadow of the dune. Though Dorian was watching carefully, he saw no significant weakness as Bull pulled ahead to reach the top of the ridge just ahead of Kaaras. 

By the time Dorian reached them, Kaaras was already in the process of removing the vambrace. Bull was unnaturally still when he finally pulled the armour free, and Dorian knew he was forcing himself not to flinch. 

The wyvern's jaws had captured the entire length of Bull's forearm. The armour had taken the brunt of the damage and it appeared only a couple of the teeth had properly broken the skin, but the flesh surrounding those wounds was swollen and already bruising. 

Still, a single tooth could deposit enough poison to kill if left untreated.

"How do you feel?"

"Fine." Bull met Kaaras's sceptical look. "Honestly, Boss. It stings like shit, but that's all. I've had the antidote."

"A small amount of it."

"It was enough."

He was always saying things like that. _I can handle it, I'm built to take hits, that's what I'm here for._ In the beginning it had irritated Dorian because he had taken it for arrogance, a foolhardiness that would get them all killed. Lately it irritated him for quite different reasons. "Unless you have some hitherto unrevealed immunity to wyvern poison, you will die just as surely as anyone else would." He turned to Kaaras. "We have to go back. That dose might have delayed the effects but you know it wasn't enough."

For the first time Bull showed frustration. He took the vambrace firmly from Kaaras's hands. "If we go back, that's hours wasted."

Dorian felt his own anger rise. "Then one of us will go back with you. The others can continue on."

"And what happens if either of us cross another wyvern?"

Dorian's grip tightened on his staff until it hurt. He took a deep, steadying breath. "Kaaras. Please."

Kaaras dropped his gaze. He had caught his bottom lip between his teeth again, a habit borne of nerves or thoughtfulness, or a combination of the two. He was young, younger than the rest of them, but it was only occasionally, at times like these, that Dorian was really reminded of it. Early on in their acquaintance it had surprised him, that someone with a mercenary background, with that much life experience behind them, could still be capable of such indecision. But then, he only had experience of following orders, not of giving them. 

"You really feel alright?" Kaaras said, finally.

"If I didn't, you know I’d go back.”

And so the decision was made.

Dorian stayed a little distance behind the others, blaming the sand for slowing him down the one time Kaaras mentioned it. It was a half-truth: the desert was exhausting, each step a greater physical drain than any other terrain they had so far encountered. Even snow, which he had made no secret of hating, did not suck and cling to his boots in the way the sand did. On top of that, now it was deep into the night, it was cold. A dry cold - preferable, certainly, to the icy wetness of Emprise du Lion, that settled into one's bones and never quite dried out - but somehow more insidious, a chill that clung to his exposed skin, making his fingers stiff.

He watched Bull, a short distance ahead of him. Specifically he watched for anything, anything at all, that might indicate the effects of poison. It was with a confusing mix of relief and frustration that he noticed no such signs. There was no lilt in his gait, not even to favour his good leg, nothing to suggest that he was in any unusual pain. The only notable thing was the careful way he continued to hold his right arm against his side, and the fact that he carried the vambrace instead of wearing it. 

They had been walking for roughly an hour, the quiet hum of Kaaras and Varric's conversation up ahead finally lulling Dorian into a kind of trance, when Bull's pace suddenly slowed and he stumbled, as if he had lost his footing.

Dorian tensed. “Bull?”

Bull didn’t reply. His legs buckled, and he collapsed into the sand.

For an instant Dorian was unable to move at all, numb with the force of his fear. Then he was on his knees by Bull's shoulder, hands digging into the muscle as he tried desperately to roll him onto his back. Bull’s size, combined with the bulk of what armour he was wearing and the loose, slippery sand meant that even with Kaaras and Varric’s help it took some effort to turn him.

Dorian held his head, his fingers pressed against the sides of his neck, against the faint pulse he could feel there, while Kaaras dribbled a health potion between his lips. 

The potion brought him back to consciousness, but it was almost immediately clear he was in no state to keep moving. He could stand, but his movements were stiff and slow. He initially insisted that the three of them leave him there alone while they returned to camp to pick up the antivenom, but Kaaras, visibly upset, rejected the suggestion outright. 

It was agreed it should be Dorian who stayed with him. Indeed, Dorian would not allow any argument on that point. He was better equipped than an archer to take on multiple assailants alone, should it be necessary, he said. That he was unable to bear the thought of Bull dying before he could return, he kept to himself. 

Kaaras and Varric left them near some small, weathered stone ruins, something that may once have been part of a building but had now been buried or eroded to almost nothing. A pillar that was barely taller than Bull and a few collapsed blocks resting against it were all that remained of whatever it had once been. It was something, though, some kind of landmark that could be spotted from a distance and returned to. Kaaras pointed out that, should they not return before dawn, it would provide some shelter from the sun. 

Dorian could see no hopelessness in his face as he said it, which surprised him. It was clear to him, and he suspected to Bull as well, that if they had not returned with the antidote by sunrise, there would be no further need for it.


	2. Chapter 2

The stone blocks formed a rough sort of V shape, with the pillar at its point. Within, they discovered the mostly-covered remains of a campfire.

"Someone's been here recently?" said Bull, as he settled himself with his back against the pillar. 

Dorian scooped handfuls of sand from the half-burned sticks. "Impossible to say. Could have been a day, could have been a year."

Bull hummed thoughtfully. Dorian knew Bull may have been able to tell more from the remains than he could, though it made no difference in the end - they would have to stay here regardless, and whoever had been here before them was unlikely to return in any case. The location had little to recommend it as a permanent camp. 

Dorian cleared the sand as much as possible, piled what remained of the wood, and set it alight before sitting down next to Bull. 

"It won't last long."

Dorian sighed, wiping his hand across his face. A gritty layer of sand stuck to his skin, and the gesture seemed to do nothing but move it around. He watched the fire, small and hardly brighter than the huge moon. "Neither will you."

That shocked a laugh out of Bull. "Well," he said, the smile clear in his voice even as Dorian refused to look at him, "there's no one I'd rather spend my last hours with."

How easily he said it, the lightness in his tone, as if he had not in a few words acknowledged both his mortality and the depth of his feeling. Both shook Dorian. He tried to be angry, then he tried to smile, and couldn't quite manage either. "How kind.”

Bull's hand found his where it rested on the sand between them, engulfing it in a gentle grip. "I'll be alright. I'm tough."

"You're _stubborn_ ," Dorian snapped. He considered pulling his hand away, but couldn't find the will. "You're a stubborn ass, and it's the only reason we're here."

Bull gave a slow nod. For a while there was only the crackle of the fire, and the whisper of the sands around them. Eventually Dorian brought Bull's hand to rest in his lap, where he clasped it with both his own.

"I did feel fine," said Bull.

"Still," said Dorian, stroking his thumb, back and forth, across a scar on the back of Bull's hand, "you should have known better."

The night had become quiet, long past that initial flurry of post-sunset activity, where the creatures that hid during the heat of the day emerged to go about their business. Dorian thought dawn could only be a couple of hours away, though there was no sign of it on the horizon, and time had a way of stretching and contracting in the desert that he had never quite become used to.

Kaaras was better at it, seeming to have an understanding, innate or learned, of the passing of hours. Bull, too. Dorian wondered if it was a Qunari thing. 

He recalled, in a flash, something Blackwall had said, months ago now; something veiled but vicious about Dorian having a Qunari _thing_. It had stung more than Dorian might have expected at the time. Maybe because once, there had been some truth in it: he could remember when he had thought of Bull as nothing more than the sum of his parts: Qunari, beast, spy, enemy of Tevinter and therefore of himself, strong, a temptation, a fuck, something forbidden. 

It had already been different when Blackwall had made his accusation, and that's why it had hurt. It had hurt to look at Bull and see everything he knew him to be, and remember when he had thought so little of him. 

Bull had closed his eye, though his head remained upright against the stone. Dorian pressed his fingers gently against the underside of Bull's wrist. His pulse beat faintly but steadily, and beneath the constant hiss of the sands he could just make out the soft sound of his breathing. 

He did not know enough about poison, certainly not this specific poison, to know if allowing Bull to sleep was a bad idea. Perhaps resting was the best thing, keep the heart slow, reduce the speed at which the poison spread in the bloodstream. If nothing else, sleep would at least keep Bull from feeling any pain, and that was probably the best that could be hoped for. 

The fire had dwindled almost to embers. Dorian stoked it with magic, heightening the flames artificially until it resembled its earlier form. It was a drain, but it was still cold, far more now he was not constantly moving.

With his attention on the curling flames, he almost didn't notice the movement beyond them. It was the glint of moonlight on metal that drew his eye, and at first his heart leaped at the thought that it was Kaaras and Varric returned already, before realising that it was coming from the wrong direction.

A man, forty, fifty feet from them, too far to judge anything about him except for his allegiance. Even at this distance he recognised the Venatori uniform. 

The man stood completely still, looking at them, seeming as uncertain of his next move as Dorian himself. A scout, perhaps, given that he was alone - Maker, Dorian hoped he was alone, and that there weren't twenty more of them just out of sight. 

They stared at each other in a bizarre stalemate for what felt like a long time, long enough for Dorian to reach, very carefully, for his staff on the ground beside him. 

The man turned, and ran. 

"Bull." Dorian squeezed his hand hard, then shook his shoulder when that had no effect. "Bull, wake up."

Bull opened his eye, eventually focusing on Dorian with a worrying amount of effort. 

"We have to..." He realised he didn't know how to end that sentence. What could they do? Not run, certainly not fight. Wait, and hope that the scout would not consider his discovery worth reporting? 

"What's happened?" The words came out slightly slurred, like Bull at his most drunk, or, no - more like late at night, most of the way asleep but still trying to hold a conversation. 

In this context, it was alarming. Dorian knew how he slept when they were in the field: lightly, and quick to wake at an instant's notice. Dorian had regularly relied upon it.

"Venatori." He stood, taking Bull's arm before realising it would be pointless to try and move him if he wasn't ready. Instead he turned his attention to the campfire, extinguishing the flames and kicking sand over the embers until they were buried. "One of them, at least. More on the way, I imagine."

"Dorian."

"We have to - I don't know. There must be somewhere nearby where we can stay out of sight."

Bull didn't say anything to that. His silence pressed on Dorian, weighing him down. He turned to look at Bull. It appeared as if he might have attempted to stand, but given up part way through the motion. "At least get up," he said.

Bull smiled tightly, but didn't look up at Dorian as he did so. 

Panic, then, like fire in his blood, not quite taking hold. "You can get up, can’t you?"

"I - think so." He finally looked up. "I'm just not sure there's much point."

Dorian shook his head. "No. You're not doing this."

"Where are we going to go, Dorian?" There was still a slur on certain words, improved from before but painfully noticeable. "Where do you hide someone my size?"

Dorian was suddenly furious with him. For getting them into this situation in the first place, for making Dorian care about him, then so blithely suggesting he leave him to die. "Anywhere we can. We're not just going to sit here, and I'm not leaving you. Get up."

It looked as if Bull was going to argue, but then he grinned. "You're hot when you're angry."

Such an obvious attempt to diffuse the situation should not have worked as well as it did. Dorian’s anger cooled in the face of it. "As if this is even remotely the time," he said, and offered Bull his arm.

Bull got to his feet, not without difficulty, and they made their way slowly to the end of one ruined wall. Their best hope, Dorian thought, was to head a short distance away, over the ridge of the nearest dune, and wait in the valley beyond. It was barely even a plan, but it would marginally increase their chances. "Over there," he said, sounding more certain than he felt. "It won't take more than five minutes."

"Okay." Even as he said it, Bull was lowering himself carefully to sit on the edge of the wall. "Give me a second."

"Are you in pain?" Before Bull could answer, Dorian was fumbling for one of the health potions Kaaras had left them. 

"No." He sighed, maybe the heaviest sigh Dorian had ever heard from him. "I mean, yes. But I'm just - just need a minute. Then we can go."

Dorian held out a vial. "Take this."

Bull pushed it gently back towards him. It was obvious, to Dorian at least, that his coordination was off, his fingers missing Dorian’s hand and touching his wrist instead. "Don't waste it."

Against his natural inclination, Dorian didn't force the issue. He replaced the potion back in its holder. 

Bull reached out again, hand finding Dorian's waist and resting there. "Hey." It was low and fond, almost as if there was nothing wrong with him, and Dorian knew that Bull was putting a lot of work into making it that way.

He took a step closer, until his legs were touching Bull's knees, and let himself indulge, for a moment, in the comfort of the touch. "I still think you should take a potion."

"Save them."

"They're for you, you know."

"I know." His hand slid half an inch lower to Dorian's hip, and Dorian couldn't tell if he had done it on purpose or not. "I mean save them for when I'm worse."

Dorian swallowed thickly. He'd had dreams like this. Nightmares. Being trapped in situations, stalked by unnamed enemies, the place of safety just out of reach. It mattered less, when he was alone in the dream. It was worse when there was someone with him, someone he was unable to protect.

Bull would find that funny, probably. Not the nightmares, but the idea that Dorian might want to protect him. 

At the base of the rock, just to the right of Bull's boot, a subtle movement caught his eye. It was a tiny mouse, burrowing into the sand, its threadlike tail disappearing last into the conical dip it had created. What was strange was the way the dip began to expand as grains of sand filtered into its centre, like looking down on an hourglass.

Curious, Dorian crouched down and cleared away a few handfuls of sand. His fingertips scraped stone. He brushed away more, exposing a stone block lying adjacent to the wall. There was a small gap between them where part of the stone had been worn away, through which the sand was trickling.

“What is it?”

“Maybe nothing.” His fingers brushed over a dip in the stone - an edge. He followed it round, clearing the sand away, soon revealing a large square slab cut into the stone. “Maybe something.” 

He ran his hand over the surface, brushing away the last of the sand. There were faint indentations in the centre of the slab, and he traced the shape of them. The grooves were shallow, worn, difficult to see in the low light. He traced his fingers over the markings a couple more times, and then - he recognised it. He bent to look closer, just to make sure, before speaking. "It's Tevene."

"What?"

"Writing. On the stone. It's ancient Tevene."

"You're sure?"

"Quite sure." He splayed his hand over the symbols and gathered his concentration.

"What does it say?"

Tendrils of ice spidered out from Dorian's palm across the stone, glowing gently. Just before they reached the edge of the block, the stone shuddered and slid back, far from smooth but unexpectedly fast, to reveal an opening. It was more than wide enough to fit a human, and entirely dark beyond. "Cold.” 

Bull pulled a face, half way between impressed and distasteful - a not-unusual reaction to this kind of magic, and not unfamiliar to Dorian. "That's all it said?"

“That’s all.” 

Bull grunted. When he spoke again his voice was quieter. "I know what you're thinking."

"Because it's obviously the best option."

"You have no idea what's down there."

Dorian conjured a wisp, and gently directed it towards the opening. "Neither do you."

"If it's Vints who put it there, it's nothing good."

The comment had been on the milder side, comparatively speaking, and fell far short of something Dorian would even consider being offended by. Even so, such comments had been noticeably absent in the past few months, at least in Dorian's presence. Dorian had found it a sweet gesture, rather touching. 

He considered Bull carefully, searching for any obvious signs of increased discomfort. But beyond the way he had not moved to stand, and the sharpness of his comment, there was nothing. "You wound me," he said, mildly, and turned back to the opening. The wisp had drifted perhaps three or four feet into the darkness, and already its delicate glow seemed almost swallowed by it. He directed it slowly downwards, until about six feet directly below it lit upon a glimpse of stone. The wisp followed the surface along a short distance before it dropped, revealing steps. 

"Right." He reached out for his staff, his eyes still on the wisp. 

"Dorian..."

Dorian swung his legs over the ledge, and dropped into the darkness.


End file.
